Le vin

France and wine.  Wine and France.  The two are an indelibly linked pair.  I knew a little bit about wine tasting before I arrived in l'Hexagone, and learned a little more while I was there.  I knew about checking the colour of the wine, and the legs.  I learned to swirl a little more dexterously, and to take a bit of air into my mouth with a sip of the wine.  I still don't specifically know what all these help me determine about the wine.  The "[m]any nuances in wine – say, the vanilla richness of an oak-aged chardonnay or the astringent grip of a Barolo packed with the bitter tannins found in grape skins – are simply lost on many tongues," including mine, but wine is something I hope to keep pursuing as a hobby.

Today I read an interesting article in the Globe & Mail by Beppi Crosariol about the biology behind wine tasting.  Gary Pickering, Brock University wine science professor and co-author of the study discussed, explains:

 "'A wine critic may describe the balance between, let’s say, sweetness and acidity, or sourness and astringency, or fruit and wood . . . But the overall intensity of these sensations will be different for Joe Consumer, and that’s a function of his biology. It’s not because he’s not clever or smart or verbose or because he lacks lots of experience.'" 

This last sentence resonated with me as I was reminded of how bashful and awkward I feel when trying to verbalise a description of my favourite wine from France.

In France, if not elsewhere in Europe, you can get a perfectly good bottle of wine to drink at the grocery store; I never even ventured into a Nicolas.  In France, I fell in love with Les vins du Pays d'Oc's Muscat Sec.  I don't have a photo of the bottle, nor have I been able to find one online, but each wine from this vineyard had its own colour text on a white label and cost about 3€ at the Casino at Place du Peuple in Sté.  
 
This Muscat Sec was dry, as opposed to the Mucat Doux, its sweeter counterpart.  What I liked best about it, and how I always described it, was that when you first sipped it and took a bit of air into your mouth it was a flavour explosion.  A bit at a loss for the exact words to describe the flavour, I likened it to an Orange Pekoe taste.  What I may be trying to get at though is a sort of spicy citrus-y taste.

Since I have been home, one of my missions has been to find a suitable substitute for this Muscat Sec.  I don't know anything about this grape, but Muscats do not seem to be as readily available in Vancouver as other whites; or when I did find one, they were the sweeter one.  Above are three bottles of two replacements I have found for my French Muscat. 
The first replacement I found was a 2010 Muscat Ottonel by Hillside Estates. I was surprised to discover that this wine was from so close to home--Naramata Bench in the Okanagan.  The 2011 will be released at the end of the month, just three days after my birthday.  I am strongly  considering buying myself a case as a belated birthday present to myself.

I found my second substitute on my recent trip to Seattle, and is why I was so victorious-looking in the photo of me exiting the Tasting Room with my prize.  The ladies manning the wine bar were so friendly.  After our wine tasting, Peter and I wanted to indulge in full glass each.  I described my beloved muscat, and they suggested this delicious 2010 Nache Heights Vineyard Riesling.  After the first taste, I knew I had to bring some back.  They at the Tasting Room (sorry I didn't get names!), knew I was allowed to bring two bottles back with me so, at US$16 a bottle, I bought two.

Frankly, I'm surprised I have three bottles of such delicious wine right now.  I bought a white a few weeks ago though, and it didn't take so well to being re-corked; I simply don't want to take the chance with these.  I'm hoping to share a bottle or two of these with my family for my birthday next week.